


Making Amends

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Plug, Angry Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cock Slapping, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Episode Related, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Figging, M/M, Overstimulation, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Riding, Rimming, Scent Kink, Semi-Public Sex, slight cbt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Jaskier is putting his life back together after the Mountain™. So what is he supposed to do when Geralt arrives at his doorstep?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 110
Kudos: 327
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosalee_Kenneth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosalee_Kenneth/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a basic PWP, and now there are _feelings_ and _discussions_. But never fear, the sex does happen.

When Jaskier walked into his own little house in Oxenfurt, the last thing he expected to see was Geralt of fucking Rivia sipping tea with the little old lady who lived below him. She had adopted Jaskier when he’d stumbled into town, heartbroken and rundown.

The cause of his heartbreak set down his teacup and looked at Jaskier, still standing in the doorway.

“Nope.” Jaskier turned around and left, walking down the street as quickly as possible. He did not have the energy to deal with Geralt of Rivia today. With the way his chest already ached, Jaskier wasn’t sure he would ever have the energy again. Not for someone who took out their anger on him. Not for someone who couldn’t even admit they were friends. _Had been_ friends.

He didn’t know what they were now, but Jaskier knew he didn’t want anything to do with Geralt, despite the way his feet itched to hit the road again. 

He had just barely started pulling himself together again. He couldn’t take Geralt breaking his heart once more.

“Wait, Jaskier,” he heard Geralt call behind him, along with footsteps that always sounded surprisingly light for the bulky Witcher.

Jaskier shook his head and walked faster. He didn’t particularly know where he was going, as long as it was away from Geralt. He swerved to the side to cut through an alleyway, but those irritating footsteps continued to follow him.

“Jaskier, please!” A hand came down on Jaskier’s shoulder, keeping him from moving forward, and Jaskier rounded on Geralt with a snarl. He grabbed Geralt’s wrist and twisted it away from his shoulder, turning Geralt around before the Witcher had quite realized what was happening. Or possibly, the Witcher let himself be moved. Either way, Jaskier found himself throwing Geralt against the brick wall.

Jaskier moved forward, pinning Geralt’s wrists against the wall. It was easy to forget that he and Geralt were around the same size, but right now pressing Geralt bodily into the wall, Jaskier was very aware of his own size, of the way he could actually overpower – or at least have the illusion of overpowering – Geralt. Geralt twisted his head to try to look at him and for some reason, that small action made Jaskier’s temper boil over. He brought Geralt’s wrists up to cross above the Witcher’s head so that he could clasp them in one hand and use the other to take a fist full of Geralt’s hair and push him face-first into the wall.

“You don’t get to say _please,”_ Jaskier snarled. “You don’t get to run after me like this, as if you weren’t the one that threw me away! And you sure as _fuck_ haven’t earned the right to look at me!” He tightened his grip in Geralt’s hair, wanting it to hurt, wanting Geralt to experience some of the pain he’d inflicted. “You wanted me out of your life? Well, you got what you wanted! You don’t get to change your mind now! I followed you for twenty fucking years like a goddamn fool. There was _plenty_ of time for you to stop being a gigantic horse’s ass, but _no,_ you had to wait until I’m finally starting to put myself together again to show up? Fuck you. You don’t get to do this!” If Jaskier’s voice sounded less angry and more broken by the end of his rant, neither commented on it.

“Jaskie – ah!” Geralt made an unexpected noise when Jaskier pulled on his hair to get him to shut up, and Jaskier watched the shiver travel down Geralt’s spine, watched the way Geralt shifted his legs slightly to adjust himself. Was he–?

“Well, isn’t that fucking ironic?” Jaskier spat. “Does my anger get you off, Geralt? Does the fact that you ripped my goddamn heart out and pitched it off the fucking mountain make you hot?”

“No,” Geralt tried to protest, but it broke into a choked moan when Jaskier kicked his ankle. He’d been trying to get Geralt to stop talking, but the way the Witcher automatically spread his legs in response was intriguing. “Jaskier–”

“Did I say you could use my name?” Jaskier barked, “You don’t have the _right_ to use my name, you asshole.” 

“I’m _trying_ to apolo– fuck!” Geralt swore when Jaskier pushed forward and bit Geralt’s shoulder hard. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was planning to accomplish with that, but be definitely did _not_ expect Geralt to arch back into him. Jaskier hadn’t even realized he was growing hard until Geralt’s plush ass pressed against him. Jaskier ground his hips forward against Geralt once, twice, and then stopped himself. This wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to get Geralt to leave him alone, to deal with the consequences of having pushed Jaskier away without _Jaskier_ having to see him.

Jaskier made the decision to release Geralt and move away from him entirely, perhaps to run back home until he could lock Geralt out. Only before he could act on it, Geralt rubbed his ass against Jaskier’s cock, and growled out a low, “please”.

Somehow that word wasn’t as infuriating as it had been a few moments ago. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to work off some of his hurt on Geralt’s body.

He wasn’t like Geralt, he couldn’t just casually hurt someone for the hell of it. But then, Geralt seemed to be enjoying the hurt. “Is that it?” Jaskier snarled into Geralt’s ear, biting harshly at his neck and keeping his face pressed against the wall. “Does the White Wolf get off on being roughed up?”

“No,” Geralt choked out, rocking back against Jaskier still. His voice was muffled, and Geralt’s lips were probably brushing the brick with every movement. “I – it’s you.”

Jaskier didn’t know what to do with that, so he ignored it. “If only people had known all these years, the way to get the White Wolf to submit – have him throw twenty fucking years away and then fuck him when he comes crawling back.” Geralt groaned, and Jaskier squeezed his hand around Geralt’s wrists. “You will not move your hands,” he ordered, and released them to rip Geralt’s trousers down to his knees.

“I’d take you with no slick, but you’d probably like that, sick fucker.” Jaskier pulled the small vial of oil he’d gotten in the habit of carrying around at all times when he was in his twenties. You never knew when it might come in handy. “But you certainly haven’t earned a nice fingering, have you? You’ll just have to hope you’re nice and loose like the slut you clearly are.” Despite his words, Jaskier poured a generous amount of oil in his hand and rubbed it over his cock, moaning deep in his chest. But there was something better than his hand waiting for him, so Jaskier pulled Geralt’s cheeks apart and thrust in.

Geralt moaned, long and low and growling. Jaskier would never admit that the sound spurred him on, made him push in faster. Within moments, he was flush against Geralt’s lovely backside. Just because he could, Jaskier smacked that firm ass as he drew out, and Geralt tried to suppress the noise that left him.

Well, that would just ruin Jaskier’s fun. He couldn’t have that. Jaskier tangled his hand in Geralt’s hair again and pulled roughly at the same time he sank his teeth into Geralt’s neck.

Geralt gasped loudly, and arched back against him.

Jaskier set a harsh rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in with all the force he could muster. Geralt rocked forward with every thrust, and his face must be scratching against the brick, but he obediently kept his arms crossed above his head rather than bracing them to take his weight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier laughed roughly, “the great White Wolf getting off on being fucked like a whore in a back alley.” The noise Geralt made was almost a whimper and Jaskier needed to hear that sound again. “Maybe that’s where your real talents lie. You’re a shit friend, but your hole is nice and tight.” Jaskier let out a huff, “bet I could ruin that. Use you until your hole gapes open and stuff you full of cum until nothing else fits, until that’s all you are – just a fuck toy for me to use.”

Geralt groaned, panting for breath. “Jas–Jaskier.”

Jaskier pulled out and smacked across Geralt’s ass cheeks extra hard. “You haven’t earned the right to use that name yet.” Geralt arched with a small noise, so Jaskier did it again before thrusting roughly back in. 

He had one hand fisted in Geralt’s hair, holding him against the wall, and one on his hip, keeping him in place to fuck against. “You were made for this, weren’t you? A hole to be used, over and over and over again, until I throw you away the way you did me.” Geralt’s noise sounded more hurt than pleasured at that, but Jaskier refused to care. “I gave you twenty fucking years, half my gods damned life, and you _threw me away!”_ With each of his final words, Jaskier thrust as hard as he could. His vision was getting blurry and he blinked furiously. He’d wasted enough tears on Geralt of Rivia.

Geralt, on the other hand, appeared to have no such issue, because Jaskier was positive he heard a sniffle. “I was wrong,” the Witcher said. His mouth was pressed against the wall and his voice quiet, but Jaskier heard him clearly. “I’m – _ah”_ Geralt gasped on a moan when Jaskier thrust into him again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Jaskier said, feeling his face twist. “The first fucking time you’ve _ever_ said that to me, and it’s now?” He pulled out of Geralt, flipped him around, and slapped him soundly across the face. The smack of skin on skin was loud, and Jaskier’s hand came away wet with tears that had been on Geralt’s face. 

Geralt let his head turn with the blow. “I never wanted to lose you, Jaskier.” His voice was low and hoarse, and his eyes were serious as they met Jaskier’s. “I fucked up. You’re right, I have been a terrible friend. You deserve better.”

Jaskier bit his lip and stared at him, the two of them standing awkwardly facing each other, both still hard. Geralt’s cock was red from where it had been rubbing against the brick, and Jaskier vindictively hoped that it hurt. “I do deserve better.” He said. “I deserve better than you.”

Geralt flinched. “You do,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath, before saying in a rush, “I miss you.”

Jaskier grit his teeth and told himself firmly that he didn’t care. “Gee, if only you’d figured that out when it still mattered.” He tried to make his feet turn, to tuck himself in and walk away from Geralt. That would be the smart thing to do – leave before he could get hurt again.

“Please,” Geralt dropped to his knees in front of Jaskier. “I can’t lose you from my life, Jaskier. If – if you can’t consider friendship, then do what you said.” He looked up to meet Jaskier’s gaze. “Use me until you’re satisfied. If that’s the only way I can be near you, then I accept.”

Jaskier drew back in surprise. “What? I – that’s not–” He frowned down at Geralt. How was he supposed to be able to think about if he was willing to let Geralt into his life when Geralt knelt between his legs? Geralt’s pants were still tangled around his knees, leaving his hard cock exposed. His face was blotchy and red, scratches on his forehead and nose from the brick wall and tear tracks down his cheeks. Eyes still locked with Jaskier, Geralt deliberately licked his lips a hair's breadth from Jaskier’s cock.

“Use me, Jaskier. I deserve your anger. I want anything you’re willing to give. Please,” Geralt swallowed and then closed his eyes and opened his mouth, a willing hole if Jaskier chose to take it.

Well, how was he supposed respond to that? Jaskier wasn’t in the habit of depriving himself of what he wanted. 

And he had wanted Geralt, for a long, long time. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hair, and still, the Witcher kept his eyes closed, mouth open.

If he’d ever thought he might have Geralt in this position, he probably would’ve come immediately into his hand during a fantasy. He definitely would have salivated over the idea of Geralt giving up control, of Geralt submitting and just being _taken._

Once, this would have been everything he ever wanted. So why did it feel so bitter now?

Jaskier’s cock was still hard, definitively signaling his interest. He _wanted_ to fucked Geralt’s face – really, who wouldn’t?

But this… “No,” Jaskier heard himself say, and he removed his hand from Geralt’s hair.

Geralt let out a small, broken noise and his body seemed to collapse in on itself. He didn’t move to get up. In fact, he didn’t move to do anything at all, but he did blink his eyes open to look at Jaskier. There were tears welling up in those yellow eyes, and something deep on Jaskier’s chest twinged.

Jaskier gave a deep sigh and slumped down against the wall next to Geralt. “I can’t – I can’t do this, Geralt. Not again. If I let myself love you again, what happens the next time you break my heart?”

“What if I don't?” Geralt’s voice was small and timid in a way Jaskier had never heard it.

He thunked his head against the bricks, looking up at the sky. “Why would now be different from the past 20 years?”

“Because I lost you.” There was a soft touch against the side of Jaskier’s cheek and he startled. Geralt drew back immediately, almost a flinch.

Before he knew he was going to do it, Jaskier caught Geralt’s hand. Geralt laced their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jaskier’s hand. “I didn’t–” Geralt took a deep breath, “I never thought I could lose you until I did.” He swallowed. “I know I fucked up. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Jaskier stared down at their joined hands resting against Geralt’s thigh. “I don’t know if you can.”

“I have to try.” Geralt’s free hand cupped Jaskier’s cheek, “you’re worth trying for.” Geralt licked his lips, and Jaskier couldn’t help the way his eyes followed the movement. “Let me prove it.”

Jaskier’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Let me prove to you that I can change. Let me stay here and show you.” Geralt’s thumb brushed the corner of his mouth and Jaskier had to grit his teeth to avoid turning his head and sucking it past his lips.

“I do have a spare room. But if you hurt me again...” Jaskier left the threat unfinished.

“I will do everything possible not to.” Geralt brought their hands up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier cleared his throat to hide the way his breath hitched at the touch. “Well, we should probably stop squatting in this alleyway. I don’t even want to know what you must be smelling right now.”

Geralt mumbled something that could have been _only you._

“Come on,” Jaskier started to rise, hand still clasped in Geralt’s.

Geralt did not get up. In fact, Geralt bit his lip and looked to the side in a way Jaskier almost thought meant he was embarrassed. “I’m – uh, I’m gonna need a minute.” Geralt bit out, gesturing to his lap with the same hand that Jaskier had almost put his mouth on. His eyes zeroed in on Geralt’s thumb and his tongue flicked out to wet his lip. Then he followed the gesture down to Geralt’s still very hard cock and abruptly remembered that he was hard too, though he had softened some during their conversation. 

“Ah,” Jaskier said eloquently. He licked his lips again, biting at his bottom lip. 

“You could finish what you started,” Geralt offered with a low growl.

Well. It’s not as if they could walk back to his house like this. And if they were going to take care of it, using his own hand seemed rather a shame. “I suppose it would only be polite,” Jaskier joked. Using their still clasped hands, Jaskier hauled Geralt to his feet and the Witcher looked momentarily surprised by his strength. Jaskier smirked. “Hands on the wall, feet apart.”

Geralt shuddered and moved into position immediately, legs spread as wide as they could with his trousers still tangled around his knees. 

Jaskier fisted his cock, bringing himself to full hardness. With his other hand, he thrust three fingers into Geralt without warning. Geralt’s startled gasp made him smirk. “Mmmm, already as wet as a cunt, aren’t you?” Geralt pushed back, fucking himself on Jaskier’s fingers. “Oh, isn’t that a lovely sight. But I’ve got something better for you than fingers.”

Jaskier grasped Geralt’s hips with both hands, and pulled the Witcher back onto his cock. The heat was overwhelming, and Geralt still felt so tight around him as he pulled back and thrust in again. 

Geralt moaned. “Can you– like before, with my hair?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier obliged, grasping a fist full of hair near Geralt’s scalp and tugging. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” Geralt’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp, and Jaskier tugged his head to the side to bite at his neck. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“I know,” Geralt panted.

“Good. Because if you were expecting this to be gentle, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Without waiting for a response, Jaskier started a fast pace, thrusting hard.

Geralt moaned loudly and tried to turn his head to muffle it. Jaskier tightened his grip on Geralt’s hair and refused to let him move. Geralt whimpered in his throat at the tug and Jaskier could feel the vibration of it as he sucked a mark on Geralt's skin.

“Be as loud as you like. Just imagine, anyone could come walking by. Anyone could see the White Wolf getting fucked by his bard, and _loving it.”_ He bit Geralt’s earlobe. Geralt slurred something Jaskier didn’t catch, so he tugged his head back further. “What was that?”

“Slap me,” Geralt whispered.

“You deserve a good slap,” Jaskier said and his palm made a satisfying _smack_ against Geralt’s cheek. The Witcher moaned, and Jaskier switched hands, gripping Geralt’s hair tight and slapping the other side of his face. 

Geralt let out a loud grunt. “More.”

“Oh, believe me, you do not need to ask.” Geralt got louder as Jaskier established a rhythm of slapping him in time with his thrusts. “And you call me noisy. Almost makes me think you _want_ to get caught, want the world to know that the famous White Wolf gets off on getting beaten up.” Geralt’s hips jerked against him.

Instead of his face, Jaskier aimed his next hit at Geralt’s cock. Geralt arched back with a loud gasp and came, spattering white over the brick. Geralt’s arms weakened, and Jaskier’s next thrust sent Geralt into the wall again, his cock skidding through the mess he left.

Geralt whined, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, are you sensitive?” Jaskier asked. Instead of letting Geralt reply, he thrust again, rocking him against the wall. “Too bad.”

Geralt moaned pitifully, but he was moving his own hips with Jaskier’s rhythm, letting himself scrape against the brick wall. Jaskier smirked. How hadn’t he known just how much Geralt liked pain?

Then again, Geralt was usually beat up enough, he would hardly have noticed a couple of extra marks from a visit to the brothel. Jaskier was suddenly consumed by the thought of what else he could do to Geralt, what else Geralt might like. There were a lot of less than nice fantasies Jaskier had concocted since the mountain. Maybe he’d get to bring them to life.

The thought drove him over the edge and he gripped Geralt’s hips tight, pulling their hips flush. Geralt squeezed around him, and he rocked against the Witcher, biting hard at Geralt’s shoulder to silence his moan.

“Fuck,” Jaskier huffed once he had his breath back. He was leaning against Geralt’s back and he slowly got his muscles working again so that he could pull out. “Better hold my cum in you, unless you want a mess in your pants.” A dribble of cum tried to escape with his cock and Jaskier pushed it back in with his fingers.

Geralt jerked and clenched around him, moan rumbling through his chest. “If you keep that up,” he panted, “I’ll make a mess on the wall again.”

_“Will_ you?” Jaskier purred with interest. “You know, I think I might still have some anger to work out.”

Geralt grunted. “We still have to walk back to your plaaaa _ah, Jaskier!”_

Jaskier watched in amazement as Geralt let out a deep growl and came again, adding to the mess in the alley. “Wow,” Jaskier pulled his fingers out, watching Geralt clench to keep Jaskier’s cum inside him. He stuck his own fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. Then he used the hand in Geralt’s hair to drag him back far enough for a kiss, sharing the taste between them. “Maybe I should discover how many times I can make you come until your body gives out.”

Geralt moaned weakly. “If this is your payback,” he panted, and Jaskier glanced down to see Geralt’s cock twitch, even though he must be beyond oversensitive by now. “Can we at least go back to your house?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier brings Geralt back home, ogling Geralt's ass the entire time. After that, it seemed only fitting to actually play with that ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was seriously supposed to be a quick little PWP originally and now it's evolved and is trying to grow a plot????

Jaskier’s house had a spare room. It made perfect sense for Geralt to stay there while he proved to Jaskier that he could figure out how to be a good friend. Geralt could try to earn his trust again while they were on _Jaskier’s_ turf for a change. And if Jaskier needed to get away, he had the city of his youth at his disposal. Oxenfurt offered many distractions for one who might need them.

The problem was, he couldn’t stop fucking Geralt.

Seriously, he was starting to worry about chafing with how often they were going at it. Chafing for him, that is – Geralt seemed to be into that kind of thing. 

How were they supposed to figure out their friendship when they spent 69% of their time going at it like bunnies?

But also, Jaskier very much did not want to stop. He’d fantasized about Geralt for most of his life. He had _plenty_ of ideas to keep them busy. And it turned out, Geralt had a few ideas of his own.

It had started that first night. 

Geralt’s walk was stiff on the way back to Jaskier’s house, and it drew Jaskier’s attention all the more to Geralt’s plush ass. It truly was a shame they’d had sex and Jaskier hadn’t even properly fondled that ass.

That ass that was currently filled with his cum. Jaskier bit his lip hard, waved at the little old lady that lived downstairs, and led Geralt through his front door.

Jaskier waved down the hallway. “There’s a bathroom through there, if uh–”

“Yes,” Geralt interrupted. “Thank you.”

Geralt walked unevenly down the hallway, and Jaskier couldn’t help but ogle his ass now. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jaskier licked his lips and called to Geralt. “Clean thoroughly.”

Geralt froze for a moment, then looked back at Jaskier over his shoulder. Whatever he saw seemed to convince him, because Geralt nodded the slightest amount and then slipped through the bathroom door.

Now Jaskier was stuck overthinking things. Great.

Despite the arousal simmering in his belly, it was probably a terrible idea to have sex with Geralt again. Especially when their friendship still remained uncertain, though Jaskier was willing to give Geralt a chance.

One chance. His heart had taken enough of a beating.

Was adding sex to the mix just going to overly complicate everything? Absolutely. Was Jaskier still going to do it?

Considering he could feel his mouth watering just at the thought of getting his hands on that ass, the answer was definitely yes.

And since that was the case, he may as well plan out what he wanted. The bed was nice and all, but then that could lead to questions about who was sleeping where and Jaskier just wasn’t ready to think about that. This house did have a charming little balcony, though. And wouldn’t it be lovely to have Geralt bent over the railing?

When Geralt emerged, Jaskier had gathered a few supplies and a pillow and brought them all to the balcony. He was leaning back against the railing and called for Geralt to join him. Geralt walked upstairs and onto the balcony, looking around curiously. “Um...nice place?” he ventured.

Jaskier laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not suddenly expecting you to become a conversationalist.” He stepped into Geralt’s space, his voice lower than usual. He watched the way Geralt’s eyes dilated at the sound and smirked, bringing his lips close enough Geralt would feel his breath. “I believe there is something I promised to discover.” Jaskier slowly slid a hand up Geralt’s arm, over his shoulder, and up his neck. Finally, he wove his fingers through Geralt’s hair and pulled him into a kiss.

There was nothing gentle about their kiss. Jaskier bit at Geralt’s lips and sucked his tongue hard until a whimper escaped Geralt’s throat. Then he pulled back and ordered, “Undress and bend over the railing.”

Geralt scrambled to pull off his clothes in a hurry and moved into position. Jaskier nabbed the pillow he’d brought out earlier and placed it between Geralt’s legs so that he could kneel later with that gorgeous ass at eye level. Or well, really, mouth level.

Since Jaskier was very talented with his mouth, that was perfect. But first, he drew back his hand and brought it down across Geralt’s left cheek. Geralt jerked forward with a grunt, and there was a lovely red handprint across one cheek. Obviously his other needed a matching mark. 

And then, well, the handprint could stand to be darker. His next hit landed just off center from the previous mark, and Jaskier decided that the only way to fix that was to just mark Geralt’s entire ass.

The witcher certainly wasn’t complaining. Small sounds were escaping from between gritted teeth. If Geralt wanted to try to keep quiet, that was fine with Jaskier. He would simply have to push the Witcher further to get him truly noisy.

Geralt’s ass was pink and warm to the touch when Jaskier landed his last hit. He reached out to cup each ass cheek, squeezing them, and Geralt groaned. Jaskier held his cheeks apart and dropped to his knees. He buried his face in Geralt’s ass, licking across his hole and getting him nice and wet. 

He flicked his tongue over Geralt’s hole, catching at his rim. Geralt’s ability to hold back faltered and his next moan was loud. Jaskier smirked and rewarded him by plunging his tongue into his hole, sealing his lip around it so he could suck. Geralt squirmed back into him with a hoarse _fuck._

The next time Jaskier thrust his tongue into Geralt, he accompanied it with a finger. 

“Oh,” Geralt gasped. “Fuck, more, please.” His grip on the railing had turned his knuckles white.

“Now, now,” Jaskier tutted. “The more you tense, the more this will hurt.”

Predictably, Geralt tensed further and Jaskier chuckled against his hole, pulling back to shove two fingers in. He spread his fingers and tongued between them. He wasn’t planning to give Geralt any further slick than his saliva, and clenching would only enhance the sensation.

Jaskier pulled back and picked up the instrument he’d brought outside for this specifically: a finger of ginger, peeled and shaped into a butt plug. Jaskier had done this before, both as a giver and receiver, but he would admit that there was a special thrill to the idea of doing this with Geralt, who so clearly loved pain.

Jaskier spread Geralt’s cheeks and shoved the ginger into his ass without warning. Geralt made a surprised hiccup sound and quivered in Jaskier’s grip.

“What–” Geralt began.

“Shh, just give it a moment.” From experience, Jaskier knew that Geralt would feel warmth spreading from the plug, slowly turning to tingling. Geralt rocked back against it and his breath caught as the tingling kept growing in strength.

But Jaskier wasn’t finished. “Get up and kneel before me,” he ordered, standing in front of the pillow. 

Geralt clenched around the plug, moaning when that made the sensation more intense. Holding the plug in place, he turned to kneel before Jaskier. Jaskier, still fully dress, unlaced his breeches and pulled his cock out. There was a bead of precum on the tip, and Jaskier tangled his hand in Geralt’s hair and dragged the tip of his cock across Geralt’s bottom lip.

Geralt’s tongue flicked out, over the head of his cock and Jaskier moaned. “You keep that plug clenched in you until I finish fucking your face, and I’ll reward you.” Geralt groaned, nodding eagerly and pulling against the grip on his hair. “Oh, you like getting your face fucked, don’t you? Is that why you offered earlier?”

Geralt opened his mouth, letting his tongue loll out as if presenting himself for inspection. Well, it would be rude to deny him.

Jaskier delicately placed his cock on Geralt’s tongue and then abandoned delicacy entirely, grabbing the sides of Geralt’s face and dragging him onto his cock. Geralt’s moan was partially muffled by his mouthful, but that meant Jaskier got to feel all the vibrations that showed just how much Geralt liked getting his face fucked.

As he started a deep and fast rhythm, fucking against the back of Geralt’s throat, it was clear Geralt liked it very much.

So much, in fact, that one of his hands crept down to fist his cock. Before Geralt could touch himself, Jaskier pulled him all the way forward onto his cock and kicked Geralt’s knees apart.

“You want to come? Then you come like this.” Jaskier placed his heel down in front of Geralt’s cock and tilted his foot so that it hovered over Geralt’s cock. Geralt moaned, his hands instead coming up to drag Jaskier’s hips further against his face. Witchers could apparently hold their breath for quite some time, as Geralt choked himself on cock without coming up for air.

Geralt shifted, and his cock just barely brushed against Jaskier’s shoe. His whine sounded more disappointed than anything, so Jaskier tilted his foot further forward, pressing against Geralt’s cock.

Geralt tried to thrust against him, but, Jaskier increased the pressure and he couldn’t move. Geralt groaned, choking around him as he tried to swallow. Tears were starting to gather in the corners of his eyes, but Jaskier did not pull back, not yet. 

Geralt tapped his thigh, signalling that it was time, and Jaskier pulled all the way out, letting Geralt catch his breath. Geralt coughed light, panting against his skin as he nosed into Jaskier’s pubic hair. 

He inhaled deeply and sighed. “You smell so good,” Geralt moaned and Jaskier jerked in surprise, keeping Geralt pressed against him. 

“Oh?”

“The first thing wrong after you left.” Geralt panted, breath blowing warmly over Jaskier’s balls. “Your scent faded from all of my things. It felt as if you were truly gone then.”

Jaskier pet Geralt’s hair, unsure what to say. But Geralt didn’t seem to be waiting for a response. He nuzzled around the base of Jaskier’s cock, sniffing deeply. When he started licking teasingly at Jaskier’s cock, Jaskier decided it was time to make use of his mouth again.

He twisted his hand in Geralt’s hair, pulling it taut against his scalp. Geralt let out a loud sound and his eyes fluttered closed. Jaskier guided him back onto Jaskier’s cock and set a quick pace, holding Geralt exactly where he wanted him.

Geralt started growing louder and louder as he wiggled against Jaskier’s foot and clenched around the ginger in his ass. The burn must have reached its peak by now, and Geralt’s face was wet from tears, but he didn’t tap out. Instead, he almost seemed to relax further, pliable under Jaskier’s grip. 

Jaskier could feel himself approaching the edge and he pulled back. Geralt actually _whined_ when he withdrew and just for that, Jaskier dragged him up by his hair into a kiss. It was deep and dirty and he could taste himself in Geralt’s mouth.

“Bend over for me,” Jaskier said, “You’re going to take my cum like the whore you are, aren’t you? You so enjoyed feeling full, didn’t you.” Jaskier trailed his fingers over Geralt’s back and down to his ass, where that finger of ginger was still clenched tightly.

“Good boy.” He praised thoughtlessly, but Geralt moaned at the praise, trembling. “Oh, you like being told how good you are, how good your hole is?” He pulled out the ginger plug and coated his cock in the oil he’d set beside Geralt. He was so close, but gods, he wanted to get all the use possible out of Geralt, in case they never did this again.

Geralt whined at the emptiness, fisting his hands on the railing. Jaskier held his cheeks apart and slowly dragged his cock along Geralt’s crack, letting it catch on the rim. Geralt growled low in his chest at the teasing. “Jaskier, fuck, _please.”_

Smirking, Jaskier tilted his hips and slid into Geralt, that warm heat parting around him like he’d never been gone. Jaskier moaned and rocked into Geralt with quick thrusts, driven on by the noises Geralt was making. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up like a whore, maybe plug you back up with ginger, hmmm? Have you feel the burn while desperately holding everything in? Think your good little hole can handle that?”

Geralt moaned, pushing back against Jaskier. “Please, Jaskier, fuck, fill me, please.” Geralt bit his lip to try to keep his pleas to himself, but Jaskier fisted a hand in his hair and tugged him back until his head was tilted just a little too far back. Geralt wailed, jerking back into Jaskier’s hips. “Fuck, please, I want to be yours, I want to do anything and everything you want, _please,”_ Geralt cried and Jaskier’s head spun with possibility.

He arched as he came, driving deep into Geralt and holding him still. He moaned into the back of Geralt’s neck, biting harshly. Geralt shook under his grasp, close to the edge.

Geralt hadn’t earned a second orgasm, Jaskier decided. “You won’t come.” He ordered, grinding his hips to push his cum deeper into Geralt.

Geralt growled, “no, please, please, Jaskier~”

“You want to do what I want, don’t you?” He asked sharply, slapping Geralt’s thigh. Geralt jerked with a high pitched noise and breathed deeply through his nose, trying to get himself under control.

When Geralt’s breathing was finally evening out, Jaskier pulled out. He took the ginger again and teased it up Geralt’s crack. “Yes?”

“Oh fuck, _yes,”_ Geralt moaned.

Jaskier pulled back to peel a thin layer off, so the ginger would be fresh and pressed it slowly into Geralt’s hole, trapping his cum there.

He kind of wanted Geralt’s hole to always be full of his cum. That would remind Geralt to be good.

Jaskier smacked Geralt’s ass as he got up, forcing Geralt to clench around the ginger with a broken moan. He stood up, wiped his cock off with a rag and tucked himself away. Geralt’s ass looked perfectly lovely, still a deep rosy pink, and with a knot of ginger sticking out of it. Shame he couldn’t entertain that view regularly.

He helped Geralt stand up, watching the way he tremulously pulled his clothing on. Jaskier pointedly did not offer to help. “I’ll set up the guest room for you, if you want to go clean up. But you can’t come!” He pointed a stern finger at Geralt, and then left him in the hallway outside the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [floorplan of Jaskier's house](https://witcher-ot3.tumblr.com/post/618864459606360064/making-amends-floorplan) in the Sims, because I'm a dork.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [floorplan of Jaskier's house](https://witcher-ot3.tumblr.com/post/618864459606360064/making-amends-floorplan) in the Sims, because I'm a dork.

Geralt hobbled into the bathroom, the tingling from the ginger turning into a sweet burn that made his cock beg for attention. But Jaskier had told him not to come, and he wanted to prove to Jaskier that he could follow orders, that he could be good and worth being friends with again.

So he wasn’t going to come, no matter how much he desperately wished he could. He kicked off his pants and moved to kneel over the chamberpot before it really hit him. He had Jaskier’s cum in his ass. Jaskier had fucked him, fucked him _twice,_ and Geralt had no idea if he would again, but gods, he wanted that more than anything. 

If he pulled the ginger out, he would lose the only real evidence he had that Jaskier liked him, that Jaskier considered him worth fucking, if not yet worth friendship. But the ginger burned, and he couldn’t leave it in him!

Geralt bit his lip. This was Jaskier’s bathroom. Jaskier who had said he was settling in here, which meant he’d likely invested in some supplies. Supplies like – “aha!” Geralt breathed, holding up the polished wooden plug Jaskier had hidden behind the bath supplies. He also found lubricant, which was good, because he wanted to keep Jaskier in him for as long as he could, but his bottom had already taken quite a lot of abuse.

Liberally coating the wooden plug, he switched them out and tossed the ginger aside to be disposed of. Then he took meditative breaths until his cock softened enough for him to redon his clothing and go out to meet Jaskier.

Jaskier was sitting on the bottom stair, scribbling in a notebook. When he heard Geralt, he cleared his throat. “So, um, the two doors you passed in the hallway upstairs are the bedrooms. You can stay in the one on the right. Uh, holler if you need anything?” 

Geralt nodded. “Thank you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier stared at him with an unreadable expression. “Good night, Geralt,” he said finally and walked upstairs without a backwards glance. 

Geralt eyed the stairs with some trepidation. Going down them to get to the bathroom had been bad enough, but walking up them with a plug in his ass?

He was glad Jaskier had already disappeared into his room, because he was hard and panting by the time he made it upstairs. Geralt entered the room Jaskier had indicated and flopped onto the bed on his side, breathing deeply to try to bring himself under control. At some point, he fell into a rare dreamless sleep.

When Geralt woke up the next morning, it was with an ache in his bottom. Half asleep, he reached back to feel the bruised flesh and bumped against the base of the plug. He abruptly shivered into wakefulness at the reminder that Jaskier was in him, that he could smell Jaskier’s scent mixed with his own, and Geralt never wanted to smell like anything else.

That would be impractical, of course. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming of a future where after they cleaned up from sex, they crawled together into a big bed, instead of going into their separate rooms. 

But he was the one who had ruined that. It was his fault Jaskier was currently scared to think of him as more than a fuck. 

But oh, what a fuck. Geralt stretched and felt the ache in his muscles. It was a feeling he was used to, but it was rarely accompanied by such pleasant memories. Thinking about last night, he realized he was humping against the bed and forced himself to stop. Jaskier had said he couldn’t come. Geralt would show Jaskier that he could follow orders.

His balls ached and he hobbled out of bed, stumbling towards his bag to grab fresh clothes. Usually, since Jaskier had a bathroom, he would take advantage of the bathtub. And if Jaskier let him, maybe he would later. But for now, Geralt clenched around the plug keeping Jaskier in him and shuddered. 

On the road, he had always risen earlier than Jaskier, and now was no different. Geralt stepped out into the house to silence, the distant sounds of the city muted by the brick. It was kind of nice to have somewhere like this to stay. He would have to make sure to thank Jaskier appropriately, if he was allowed.

And there was the scary thing. Everything depended on what Jaskier permitted. At any moment, he could kick Geralt out and never speak to him again.

Was this how Jaskier had felt all those years that Geralt had refused to admit that they were friends? Was his pride worth this deep ache in his chest, more painful than any of his marks or bruises?

Geralt wished he would’ve learned the lesson to treat Jaskier better years ago. The bard deserved so much better. But he’d given Geralt a second chance and he would not waste it.

Geralt hadn’t had a chance to look around Jaskier’s house yesterday, so he took his time now. The door to Jaskier’s room faced his, and the hallway led either downstairs or to the balcony where Jaskier had taken him yesterday. He started down the staircase, gripping the railing tightly. Once downstairs, Geralt caught his breath, forcing his hands to stay at his sides. 

To distract himself, he looked around. The bathroom was immediately to his right, straight down the hallway from the front door. Past the bathroom appeared to be Jaskier’s living area. There was a large bookcase and a handful of books scattered on a table, along with one of Jaskier’s notebooks. There was a couch made from fabric dyed a light blue that Geralt actually found rather pleasing, and an armchair perpendicular to the couch. Between the two, there was a vase on the table filled with flowers. Geralt closed his eyes and inhaled, and the overarching smell of _Jaskier_ proved the bard had certainly settled into his home. Underneath it, he could smell the sweet scent of buttercups and had to laugh. Only Jaskier would decorate his home with flowers that share his name.

And also happened to be poisonous. Geralt was pretty sure Jaskier knew that. 

Turning away from the flowers, Geralt ducked through the open doorway to the kitchen. A small table with two chairs was stuffed into a corner next to the fire pit. A wooden stove stood next to the fire and Geralt decided he wanted to make Jaskier breakfast. His cooking wasn’t the greatest and Jaskier was always saying that he needed to learn how to use spices, but he could learn. For Jaskier.

He looked through the cabinets and was mildly surprised to find the kitchen well stocked. Contemplating what he could make, Geralt decided on fried potatoes, as he was relatively sure he could spice that properly. He diced the potatoes and threw them in the pan with a bit of onion, garlic, ground pepper, salt, and some mushrooms. As the potatoes sizzled he could pick up the sounds upstairs of Jaskier slowly waking up. Geralt clenched around the plug inside him and took deep breaths to keep himself from getting hard. He wanted to show Jaskier that while he _loved_ the sex, he wanted more than that from him. He wanted a partnership.

Geralt heard the door to Jaskier’s room open and close, followed by stumbling steps down the stairs and then the click of the bathroom door closing. Jaskier would likely be ready just in time for the potatoes, which was quite the stroke of luck. He might even be able to make it look like he planned it that way. 

Geralt pulled out two dishes and set them beside the stove. He hoped Jaskier liked it.

––

Jaskier woke up with the taste of Geralt on his tongue. Which, honestly wasn’t that great after 8 hours of sleep. He groped around for some water and thought about how, exactly he’d come to know what Geralt tasted like the morning after.

Would Geralt be up for a repeat? Should he even pursue that? Geralt had broken him more deeply than any before, and Jaskier knew he couldn’t go through that again. He’d wanted Geralt too long to be able to fuck him without feelings. Jaskier chewed on his bottom lip as he contemplated it, walking into the bathroom. The mouthwatering smell of food permeated the air and Jaskier blinked as he realized that Geralt must be cooking him breakfast. Geralt. Cooking. For _him._

This was either going to be amazing or horrifying. But either way that kind of initiative should be rewarded. And Jaskier could admit to himself that if Geralt was willing to try – truly willing to treat him better – then was it so wrong to let himself enjoy Geralt’s body? Geralt was clearly fully consenting, almost downright eager in fact. And didn’t that make something prickle up Jaskier’s spine, spreading warmth in its wake. He crouched down to dig through the cabinets he kept the bath oils and soaps in.

And then he frowned and leaned closer.

His butt plug was missing. Jaskier was positive it had been here – he had just used it a few days previously! If it wasn’t in the cabinet – a clang from the kitchen reminded him that there was another possibility. A surprising and tantalizing possibility. Was Geralt wearing his plug?

And if so, did that mean he was still wet with Jaskier’s cum? The thought made him shudder. 

Well, if Geralt was cooking him breakfast while stuffed full of him, Jaskier had to see it. Slipping a vial of lubricant into his pocket _just in case_ , he hurried through his morning ablutions and walked into the kitchen to see Geralt plating two meals. He glanced up at Jaskier and put the pan aside, holding out the plates.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice hoarse and gravely from the aggressive fucking Jaskier had given it. 

Jaskier swallowed and licked his lips, noticing the way Geralt’s eyes followed the movement. “Good morning.” He said. “You made breakfast.”

Geralt cleared his throat. “I thought – I mean –”

Jaskier took pity on him and accepted a plate, sitting down at the table. “You can sit too, you know,” he said to Geralt who hesitated a moment before gingerly lowering himself into the wooden chair. “Sore?” Jaskier asked sympathetically, wondering if it was more than that. If the way that Geralt shifted reminded him of the way Jaskier had stuffed him full and denied him his own release.

Jaskier shifted his legs to accommodate his growing length and cleared his throat. “Since when do you know how to cook?” He took a bite, and his eyes flew open in wonder. “And with spices!”

Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. “You’re always asking for more spice,” he murmured and Jaskier’s face melted into a fond smile. 

“So you do listen when I ramble.”

Geralt licked his lips and then whispered, “I always listen to you.”

Jaskier swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat. He so wanted to believe that. He really did. “Let’s eat,” he said.

Geralt nodded and leaned forward to reach his plate before suddenly stopping, a growling moan catching in his throat. He cleared his throat, trying to cover it up, but Jaskier looked him over closely. Geralt’s hair was still mused from Jaskier’s fingers and a night of sleeping on it. His ears were suspiciously red and he was biting his lip, his eyes closed. Geralt’s nostrils flares as he inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered open to look at Jaskier.

His eyes were foggy with pleasure, soft in a way Jaskier never thought he’d get to see. Jaskier licked his lips and purred, “you really are wearing my plug, aren’t you?”

Geralt’s eyes went wide and he froze. “Um.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Jaskier could feel himself growing warm under his collar, pulse thudding loud in his ears. “You’re still full of me from last night, aren’t you? And you can _smell_ it,” Jaskier realized. His blood abruptly redirected southward from his brain. “It gets you hot that you can smell me in you.”

“Yes,” Geralt groaned, covering his face. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jaskier said softly. 

“I – everything aches pleasantly and I can _feel_ you. I know that it was real.” Geralt managed to say. His ears were growing redder and Jaskier was beginning to think Geralt had been telling the truth all those times he’d said Witchers couldn’t blush.

Well, their faces couldn’t.

“Eat your breakfast,” Jaskier ordered. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you a treat.” He winked and enjoyed the way Geralt’s ears were now a furious shade of red. Jaskier cleared his throat and searched for conversation topics. “So, how did you end up in Oxenfurt, anyway.”

Geralt shot him a dirty look for forcing him to _talk_ while they pretended Geralt wasn’t stuffed full of Jaskier. Jaskier licked his lips absently and forced himself to focus on the food, which was actually pretty good.

“I heard you were here.” Geralt said. His breathing was a little faster than usual, but otherwise he was doing a good job of pretending everything was normal. Geralt sighed. “It took me a long time to admit that I’d fucked up and ruined something important for no reason.” He met Jaskier’s eyes. “Life is better when you’re around,” Geralt said. Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest and he couldn’t look away from Geralt’s gaze. “I should never have blamed you for my mistakes. I should never have pushed you away. With you gone, I was forced to face how often I wanted you there, how often I expected to hear your voice or the sound of your lute.” Geralt bit his lip. “I want you in my life, Jaskier. So I looked for you.”

Jaskier was speechless. That very well may be the most words Geralt had ever said at one time. His throat felt tight as he struggled to answer. “Right.”

Geralt glanced at him and then looked away. “How, um, how did you end up with this house?”

“I bought it.” Jaskier shrugged. Geralt’s shocked face probably shouldn’t have amused him so much. “You know that I attended Oxenfurt University. Well, after –” he cleared his throat again. “After. I – fuck, I was a mess, Geralt.” Jaskier sighed and looked down at his lap, wringing his fingers together. “The University is always eager to hire alumni for a few lectures, so coming here seemed natural. Only place I ever came close to calling home.” He huffed. “I’ve been here half a decade and I’m not exactly young anymore. I figured it was time to settle down properly, so…” Jaskier waved a hand around to indicate their surroundings. “It’s not as close to the coast as I might have liked, but it’s not too far off.”

“It’s a nice place,” Geralt said softly. “Thank you for letting me stay here. And for letting me stay at all.”

“Well,” Jaskier coughed. “I’m hoping you’re worth the second chance.”

“So am I.” Geralt’s voice was so quiet, Jaskier almost missed it. 

He licked his lips. “You’re off to a good start.” He smiled. “Answering my questions with more than a grunt is definitely good.”

Geralt grunted, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come after you.”

“I think – I think maybe it’s better. I don’t know if I would have been ready to see you. I mean, I didn’t exactly react the best.” Jaskier scratched the back of his head.

“Better than I expected, honestly.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

They sat their in silence for a moment. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable. For once, Jaskier couldn’t think of anything to say to break the tension.

Geralt came to the rescue. “Are you done?” He nodded to Jaskier’s plate and rose with his own empty plate in hand. Jaskier passed his plate over and watched in fascination as Geralt strode across the kitchen. There was a slight hitch in his walk and Jaskier could _see_ the small bulge of the plug when Geralt’s legs pulled his pants even tighter over his ass.

Fuck.

Jaskier licked his lips, ogling Geralt while he cleaned the breakfast dishes. And wasn’t that odd – Geralt, doing his dishes.

Except, actually, it wasn’t so odd. The setting was different, but Geralt had always taken care of such things when they camped. Jaskier had offered to split the chores on the road evenly early on in their travels, but there were somethings Geralt always preferred to do himself. Hunt for dinner. Prepare the meat. Cook for both of them, even though he never used enough spices, until now. Geralt carried most of their supplies, so he also took over cleaning them.

Not to say Jaskier didn’t pull his weight. But Geralt got weird if Jaskier tried to do that stuff himself.

Could it be that all this time that had been Geralt’s way of showing him he cared? 

Geralt coughed and Jaskier realized he’d zoned out leering at Geralt. “Ah,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

Geralt turned around to look at him. “Why are you sorry?”

Jaskier blinked. “I mean, usually you’re pretty exasperated with my ‘perpetual horniness’.” Jaskier flexed his fingers in air quotes. Perpetual horniness was one of the less confusing ways Geralt had put it. Jaskier honestly did not understand where the Witcher got his euphemisms from.

Geralt gave him a look like he was slow. “Not when it’s directed at me.” His voice was just this side of a growl.

“Hmm,” Jaskier let his eyes go half-mast, dragging his gaze slowly over Geralt. Jaskier rose, unconcerned with the bulge in the front of his trousers. Geralt had a matching bulge anyway. 

And a plug still in his ass. Jaskier walked backwards into the living room. Geralt returned his heated gaze and followed him. Jaskier started unbuttoning his shirt. “Undress,” he ordered, sitting down when the backs of his knees hit the couch.

Geralt shivered and pulled his clothing off with efficiency. Jaskier pushed his own pants off and waited until Geralt stood before him, on the rug. Then, he tackled Geralt roughly to the floor.

Geralt jolted with a moan when landing on the ground pushed the plug harder inside him. Jaskier took advantage, straddling Geralt’s hips and pinning his arms above his head. Jaskier rocked his hips back so that his ass rubbed against Geralt’s cock. 

“Mmm, I’m going to ride you like this, right here on the floor.” Jaskier murmured, fetching the lubricant from his pocket. Even though he’d released Geralt’s wrists, the Witcher kept them in place. “Good boy,” Jaskier purred and Geralt’s eyes went wide as his back arched sharply. “Oh, didn’t know you liked that? Well, as a reward for your good behavior, I’ll let you watch.”

Jaskier turned around and crouched over Geralt’s stomach. He brought wet fingers back to tease over his hole with a shudder and then pushed in to the first knuckle. Geralt made a wanting sound. Jaskier pushed all the way in and then drew back for more lubricant. This time, he added two fingers and spread them to let Geralt see the stretch of his rim around his fingers. 

“I’d take my time, usually, make you beg for this,” Jaskier gasped as he crooked his fingers and brushed over that sensitive spot. “But your cock has featured in my fantasies since I was 18.” He pushed a third finger in.

Geralt moaned. “Fuck, Jaskier.”

Jaskier added a fourth finger, feeling the stretch. He’d been so heartbroken over Geralt that it had been a while since he’d done this, but he always enjoyed this feeling of _fullness._

Which was a good thing, because Geralt’s cock more than lived up to his fantasies, fat and long with the slightest upward curve.

“Fuck, I need you now,” Jaskier pulled his fingers out and turned around to face Geralt. He grasped the Geralt’s cock, holding it steady to he could lower himself down. Geralt groaned, swearing under his breath. “Oh fuck, you feel as wonderful as I dreamed of.” Jaskier said. Geralt made an odd hiccuping noise at that and Jaskier grinned. “Oh come on, like you didn’t know you featured in my wet dreams. I was hardly subtle during our early travels.”

“No, you weren’t.” Geralt gave a rough laugh. “You were so young then.”

Jaskier huffed in amusement. “When I say I spent half my life by your side, I mean it, Geralt. You’ve been a constant in my life more than any other, and I’d like to think I’ve provided some comfort to you over the years.”

“More than,” Geralt said, clenching his hands, but keeping his wrists in place. “You’ve been the best part of my life, Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled, throat suddenly tight. “Ah, well. Good.” He circled his hips and Geralt’s eyes fluttered closed. His neck arched in a way that begged for Jaskier’s mouth and he leaned down to bite over the marks from yesterday that were already fading. Usually he was thankful for the Witcher healing factor, but he did rather wish he could mark Geralt more permanently.

“Ah, Jaskier, let me touch you, please,” Geralt panted and Jaskier pretended to think about it, leaning back and drawing up onto his knees. 

“No, I think you need to watch for a while longer.” Jaskier smirked. He dropped down hard, and set a fast pace like that, thighs flexing as he used Geralt’s cock to fuck himself. “You’re so good at staying still and silent,” Jaskier gasped. “That’s what makes you the perfect toy, _oh–”_ He hit the perfect angle for Geralt’s cock to rub over that sensitive spot with every thrust. Jaskier braced himself with his hands on Geralt’s stomach, tugging at the soft hair. “Perfect size – ah,” his head tilted back and he could feel the trembling in his thighs. He couldn’t maintain this pace, but oh, it felt so good. “You stretch me so well, so deep and wide, fuck, so big it feels like you’ll leave an imprint of yourself.”

Geralt gave a throaty growl at that. “Why not?” He panted, “you’ve already imprinted yourself in me.” Geralt smirked with half-lidded eyes, deliberately clenching around the plug in his ass and thrusting up into Jaskier.

Jaskier dropped himself down at the same time that Geralt thrust up and he could feel Geralt’s cock stretching him even deeper. “Fuuuuuuuck, Geralt,” He clenched around Geralt, raising himself up again on shaking thighs. “You can touch now,” he gasped out and Geralt’s hands flew to Jaskier’s hips. Geralt planted his feet flat on the rug and thrust up with force. Jaskier wailed, clawing down Geralt’s chest. “Fuck, again!”

Geralt set a fast pace, and dragging Jaskier on and off his cock by the grip on his hips. He dropped Jaskier down with force each time and Jaskier had lost control of the noises coming out of his mouth now.

Geralt smiled. “Always figured you got noisier during sex.” He thrust up, raising his hips entirely off the floor. 

Jaskier’s knees were dragging against the rug and he knew he would be irritated at the burn later, but right now, it added the perfect splash of pain. “Please, please, oh, Geralt!” 

Geralt groaned, deep in his chest. “Mmmm, you should always say my name like that.”

Jaskier tried to laugh, but it came out as a broken moan when Geralt nailed that spot directly. He scrabbled at Geralt’s chest, scraping across his nipple as he flew into ecstasy. Geralt stopped moving him, pulling him off Geralt’s cock and instead guiding Jaskier’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh fuck fuckfuckfuck, _Geralt!”_ He came across Geralt’s tongue, the Witcher suckling at his head. Jaskier lost track of time for a while, floating in a lovely haze of pleasure and contentment.

When he came back to himself, Geralt was pressing soft kisses against his thighs, his stubble scratching lightly at the skin. It was such an affectionate gesture that Jaskier found himself smiling dopily at his Witcher, running his hand through Geralt’s hair. “You’ve been so good, darling,” he murmured, wiggling down Geralt’s body to wrap his hand around Geralt’s cock.

His fingers couldn’t reach all the way around, and he marvel that he’d fit that glorious cock in his ass. He licked his lips and flicked his tongue over the slit where precum was burbling up. It would be a stretch to fit his mouth around Geralt, but he’d never backed down from a cock in his life, and he definitely wasn’t about to start with Geralt.

He opened his mouth wide, licking rapidly as the head popped between his lips. Jaskier sighed, relaxing further down. He did so enjoy giving head, enjoyed the ache in his jaw from opening too wide for too long. And Geralt’s cock was sublime.

He stroked his hands up and down Geralt’s shaft, fluttering his tongue around the head of Geralt’s cock and sucking. Geralt reached down to touch Jaskier’s lips where saliva was escaping around his mouthful, and Jaskier looked up to meet Geralt’s eyes, humming in his throat.

Geralt arched with a gasp, flinging his hand out to grasp at the rug. Jaskier sucked him through his orgasm and licked him clean. When he was finished, he looked up at Geralt in satisfaction and returned the content smile Geralt sent him.

They lay there like that for several minutes, but when Jaskier noticed Geralt dozing off, he poked the Witcher. “Hey, hey, we can’t sleep on the floor. At least move to the couch.”

Geralt grumbled, but accepted the help getting up and then flopped down on the couch on his back. He reached out a hand for Jaskier, and the bard decided _what the fuck, may as well._

He crawled up over Geralt and settled against his chest, snuggling in and closing his eyes. “Just a brief nap,” Jaskier murmured. 

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed in a low rumbling hum Jaskier could feel through his chest. “Go to sleep.” Geralt’s hand came up to run through Jaskier’s hair, and he found himself drifting off with Geralt suffusing all his senses.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier leaves for work, and Geralt has time to bathe and think

When Geralt woke, he was still sore, but his body was healing rapidly. He could feel the ache of rug burn on his shoulders and his eyes fluttered shut as he recalled exactly how he’d ended up here, with Jaskier currently cuddled to his chest. Both were still naked from earlier and by the light streaming in through the windows, it was probably about midday.

Jaskier was still asleep, so slowly, gently, Geralt brought a hand up to stroke through Jaskier’s hair. He’d wanted to find out if that hair was as soft as it looked for a long time, and now he finally knew – it honestly was. Way softer than his own. Jaskier probably used some special oil or soap that made it that way.

Geralt wondered if he might share. Not that he _needed_ soft hair, of course – such superficial things were hardly a Witcher’s concern. But Jaskier was spending a lot of time with Geralt’s hair wrapped in his fist and Geralt wanted that to be nice for Jaskier. It was certainly pleasant for himself, the way tugs would prickle at his scalp and send heat down his spine.

Lost in thought – about haircare, of all things – Geralt missed the moment Jaskier’s breathing changed from sleep to wakefulness. If he had seen it coming, he might have removed his hand from Jaskier’s hair. Instead, Jaskier made a small content noise and leaned into Geralt’s hand.

“‘S nice,” Jaskier murmured. “Always thought you were anti-cuddling, since you don’t like touch much and all.”

Geralt swallowed. It wasn’t so much that he _disliked_ touch. He just wasn’t used to people wanting to touch him. He’d adjusted to Jaskier’s tactile nature years ago, but other people’s unexpectedly touching him? Geralt never responded well. “Witchers aren’t supposed to,” he said softly. “A touch should be intended to heal or harm. Until the purpose has been determined, all touch should be treated as a threat.”

Jaskier actually pulled up to prop himself on his elbows and stare, and Geralt mourned the loss. “What, is that supposed to be a Witcher teaching? That’s bullshit. People need touch, Geralt. It’s healthy.”

Geralt shrugged a shoulder. “Witchers aren’t supposed to be people.” He knew it upset Jaskier when he said things like that, and he was even starting to understand _why_ Jaskier looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. Unfortunately, understanding didn’t equal fixed. But it meant something, that Jaskier had always insisted that Geralt was a person.

No one else had ever done that. Not so emphatically, not so naturally, and certainly not once Geralt stopped being of use.

Jaskier cupped his cheek, snapping Geralt’s attention back to him. “I know we’re in a weird place right now. But you deserve better than that, Geralt. You deserve to be treated as a person, because you _are_ one.” 

Geralt stared up at Jaskier, his hand resting against Jaskier’s back where it had fallen when the bard moved. Geralt felt like there was something he should say, but he had no idea what. How did one respond to the assertion that they were a person?

Geralt settled for nodding.

Jaskier smiled, and then got up and stretched, looking out the window. “Fuck, how long did we sleep?” He said around a yawn. “I have a class to teach this afternoon – I should probably head to the University. You – um, well, you know Oxenfurt, of course. But you’re welcome to stay here.”

“Thanks,” Geralt said, slowly levering himself off of the couch. No matter how he moved, he was _very_ aware of the plug still in his ass. “Could I – is it all right if I take a bath?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jaskier shrugged, pulling his clothes back on. “They’re probably wasted on you, but I’ve got lots of nice bath oils and scents. Just put stuff back, and I don’t care what you do.”

Geralt snorted. “Thanks.” He looked at his clothes laying on the ground and tried to imagine kneeling down to fetch them. His muscles were sore and stiff, and as much as he enjoyed the fact that he could still smell Jaskier in him, the plug was getting uncomfortable after this long.

He was very much looking forward to a bath, even if it would wash the smell of Jaskier off him. He would just have to hope that Jaskier might be willing to cover Geralt in his scent again.

Jaskier headed upstairs to change with a wave, and Geralt decided kicking his clothing into the bathroom would be easier than bending down to get it. It was even kind of amusing, seeing how far he could kick the bundle of clothing each time. Only when he turned the corner, Jaskier was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clad in a new bright green doublet and pants, and staring at Geralt with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh.”

“Do I want to know?” Jaskier asked, amusement pulling at his lips.

Geralt could feel his ears turning hot and he was glad at least his face couldn’t give him away by blushing. It was embarrassing enough that he had been walking around Jaskier’s home while naked when Jaskier had clearly indicated he should dress. But Geralt still had a plug in his ass, still had hickies on his neck from their earlier fun, and his body felt like one big bruise of other sex-related scrapes and injuries. At the time, he’d loved receiving every mark, but now, with Jaskier staring down at him with a teasing smirk, they seemed a lot less enticing and a lot more mortifying. They weren’t in the heat of the moment anymore, and Jaskier wasn’t even sure if he wanted Geralt around and this was absolutely not an appropriate moment to feel a hot coil of arousal in his gut.

It was horrifying. He wanted to floor to swallow him up, and yet, he also wanted Jaskier to keep staring, to keep judging, to keep making him feel this strange squirmy mix of terrible and wonderful. 

And to make matters worse, he was still naked. Which meant that when his cock gave an interested twitch, Jaskier could _see it._

Geralt wished he could die. He also very much wished that he could touch himself and _do_ something about the heat that was building up, coiling around the knots of embarrassment in his stomach.

Jaskier came closer to him, eyebrow still cocked, and Geralt suddenly remembered that he’d been asked a question. “Um. I...didn’t want to bend over.” Geralt bit his lip.

“Ah.” Jaskier cleared his throat, clearly trying to remove the smile from his face for the sake of Geralt’s dignity. He was also very obviously failing and Geralt wondered if he might be the first Witcher to ever be so embarrassed, his face blushed.

“I’m just gonna–” Geralt tilted his head towards the bathroom door, swallowed, and kicked his clothes the final distance. He edged towards the door, trying to hide his cock and ass simultaneously while not being obvious. 

He probably failed at both, given the way Jaskier’s eyes flicked down and then back up, amusement pulling at his lips again. “Have fun,” he waved with a knowing smirk and walked out the front door. The cool air that fluttered in when the door opened – with Geralt a little too still in view to be fully comfortable, and yet liking that – made him shiver and clench. Which just expanded his shudder, because his ass was still plugged full of Jaskier.

The front door closed and Geralt forced himself to head into the bathroom and start preparing a bath. Over the chamberpot, Geralt carefully removed the plug and cleaned himself. Part of him rebelled at the thought of losing Jaskier’s scent on him, but Geralt reassured himself by pressing his fingertips hard against one of the hickeys Jaskier had left.

They would stay even after the bath, though with his healing factor, probably not for long. If he was lucky, maybe Jaskier would replace them.

If he was lucky, maybe Jaskier would _always_ replace them, every day for the rest of their lives together.

But that was getting far, far ahead of himself. Geralt reminded himself not to get lost in fantasy as he stepped into the piping hot tub and sank down with a growling moan. Before he could think about spending their lives together, he had to convince Jaskier that he could be a better friend than before. 

Thinking of Jaskier brought to mind the expression on his face as he’d left, giving Geralt permission to _have fun._ The knowing tilt of his eyebrows, the smirk on his lips, the spark in his eye – Jaskier absolutely expected him to masturbate in his bathtub. 

In fact, he practically requested it. So it only seemed right for Geralt to slide his hand under the water and wrap it around himself. He squeezed the head of his cock where it poked out of the water, flicking his thumb over the slit to smear through the slick gathered there. Geralt moaned roughly and sank back into the tub, his muscles lax. 

Jaskier knew he was doing this. Whatever Jaskier had left to do – something at the university? Geralt should probably ask – he knew that right now, Geralt was touching himself thinking about him, about how Jaskier had made him feel. About the ways Jaskier found pleasure in him and the way that sent a deep spark of _want_ through him.

Just the thought of Jaskier knowing he was doing this made him feel like the bard’s intent blue gaze was on him. Which led to the thought of doing this while Jaskier watched. If he came back early, maybe. Or in the past, when Jaskier had washed his hair. What would he have done if Geralt’s had let himself lose control and dip down to touch himself? Would Jaskier have continued to touch him, continued to massage shampoo into his scalp as he stroked himself? Would Jaskier whisper encouragements when Geralt started getting desperate, the water splashing with the thrust of his hips?

Or would Jaskier order him to stay still? Geralt fought to get himself under control, his cock aching with need. He could be good for Jaskier. He would always try to be good for Jaskier from now on.

In his imagination, Jaskier’s hands slid from his hair down his chest, palms rolling over his nipples. _“That’s a good boy,”_ Jaskier would murmur in his ear, pressing close against the tub so that his hands could wrap around Geralt’s cock. Geralt moaned, and his eyes fluttered shut. 

_“You’ve been so good, darling,”_ his memory of Jaskier’s voice made Geralt tighten his grip. He wanted that, wanted a world in which Jaskier called him _darling_ in that soft voice and Geralt was allowed to kiss Jaskier any time he wanted, even if he didn’t want sex. He wanted a world where he knew with certainty that Jaskier would be there every morning when he woke up.

Geralt came with a vision burned into his eyelids of traveling on the road, Roach’s lead in one hand and Jaskier’s hand in the other. His body felt like it was floating in the water, and all he could feel was heat and satisfaction and contentment.

Eventually, he had to come back to reality. The bathwater was cooling, and he’d soiled it anyway. With a reluctant groan, Geralt pulled himself out of the tub and dried off. He reclothed slowly, languid with his muscles still loose from the bath and the orgasm. 

If he ever wanted even the chance for that fantasy could be true, Geralt had to figure out how to show Jaskier that he was worth friendship and affection and love. Even if Geralt sometimes didn’t think he was, he craved it like nothing else. 

Geralt wanted to show Jaskier that he was worth a second chance. He wanted to show Jaskier that he could change, that he could be a good friend, a good partner. 

He couldn’t hunt for food or kill a monster for Jaskier. Geralt had done that a thousand times, and it had never been enough. So what could Geralt do that would show his care, his attention, his usefulness?

He walked out of the bathroom, and headed upstairs to the guest bedroom. On the way, Geralt’s eyes caught on Jaskier’s laundry bag. That was something that he could do. The only difference between laundry on the road and laundry in the city was the use of a wash basin versus a freezing creek. And once Geralt realized he could heat the water next to the fire, he decided he preferred laundry in the city. 

The only problem was, laundry hardly required all of his attention. Which meant his mind was free to wander.

What would he do if Jaskier decided Geralt had outlived his welcome? He really hadn’t known how central to his life Jaskier was until he was missing from it. These past seven years had been the worst of Geralt’s life. What happened if he messed this up and that was his future forever? Sentenced to long and dream for all eternity and know that he was the only one to blame for fucking it up.

He suddenly remembered Jaskier saying, _“You were made for this, weren’t you? A hole to be used, over and over and over again, until I throw you away the way you did me.”_

What if that was all this was? Even though it seemed like Jaskier might be softening, might be willing to forgive him, what if he was actually just using Geralt until it would hurt the most?

Well, wasn’t that what he’d asked for? To be used, if Jaskier wouldn’t accept him as more. In the moment, it had almost been attractive, the idea of Jaskier using him, of Jaskier fucking him until his hole gaped and he was filled with cum, of Jaskier then rolling him over and using his cock until Jaskier was satisfied.

The idea still made him shiver. But now he worried about what happened after Jaskier was satisfied. What happened when he no longer had a use for Geralt?

A wet _splat_ and a splash of water across his front made Geralt realize his hands were shaking. He’d dropped the shirt he’d been wringing out and when he reached to pick it up, he somehow found himself curled up in a ball instead. There was a high whining sound that grated on his ears, and Geralt slowly realized that the sound was _him._ He sealed his lips together to silence himself and hugged his arms around himself. 

Geralt would swear that he’d been fine when he’d started the laundry, but now suddenly, it was as if all energy had deserted him. Even the thought of getting up seemed like too much. His injuries had largely healed themselves by now, and yet, he felt a cold ache deep in his chest. 

At some point, he must have lost track of time, because hands were abruptly on him, and Geralt didn’t like that. He flinched away and he could hear someone speaking, but he couldn’t focus enough to understand them and it seemed easier to just – not deal with it all. To let himself lean into the blankness that beckoned closer with each reminder of Jaskier promising to throw him away in revenge. 

The blankness promised apathy, promised that the hurt would stop, promised that it would be better. It was so easy for Geralt to embrace, like putting on a well worn cloak.

The last thought he was aware of was that it had been a nice fantasy while it had lasted. But Witchers had never been made for such things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Jaskier expected to come home to was a frozen and unresponsive Witcher.

When Jaskier returned home, he lingered for a good ten minutes on his doorstep, debating with himself what to do. He had needed this time away from Geralt, away from the lure of fantastic sex and Geralt being strangely affectionate. 

Jaskier had known he couldn’t focus enough to teach a class today, so he got away with having his students practice their own performances with an audience. It was genuinely good practice for them – so many of his students were complete newbies to music – and it meant that he could sit back, grin and nod approvingly, and  _ think. _

He was angry at Geralt because Geralt had broken his heart. He had lashed out on purpose and driven Jaskier away, and he hadn’t exactly been an exemplary friend even before that.

All Jaskier wanted was to  _ be  _ wanted. For the person he chose to follow to want him around, and  _ show  _ him that. He had thought the possibility for Geralt to be that person had passed. 

Was it misplaced to hope that this Geralt who was here now, who showed him affection and didn’t deny their friendship was worthy of a second chance? 

Jaskier honestly wasn’t sure it mattered. Just the thought of being separate from Geralt made his heart ache. If he’d ever believed that he’d gotten over Geralt, he was most definitely being proven wrong. Jaskier was already in far too deep not to get hurt if things went wrong. It only made sense to go all in, to truly embrace his feelings for Geralt and give them a chance to build a real relationship together.

By the time Jaskier had decided on that, his lesson was over, and he headed back home with a hop in his step. He could have this. He could have this life with Geralt.

It was only once he reached his doorstep that the doubt kicked in, but it kicked in  _ hard.  _ What could Geralt possibly see in him? Geralt had made it quite clear what he’d thought of Jaskier before – was Jaskier really sure those feelings had changed?

Jaskier shook his head, steeling himself. He couldn’t live his life in fear that Geralt didn’t return his feelings. There was a simple solution: he just had to ask Geralt to plainly tell him what he felt.

Okay, getting Geralt to talk about his feelings would not be easy, but Jaskier needed an answer. At the very least, it would be an easy way to tell if Geralt was serious about changing or not.

Decided, Jaskier strode into his house, announcing himself. “I’m hoooooooooooome.” When there was no response, not even an annoyed grunt, Jaskier ventured down the hallway. “Geralt?”

He heard the crackling of a fire in the kitchen and walked in to find Geralt huddled in on himself next to Jaskier’s wash basin, filled with what looked like his laundry. The oddity of that completely escaped his mind with his sudden complete focus on Geralt. He reached out to touch Geralt’s shoulder, and the Witcher flinched away.

Geralt hadn’t flinched away from his touch since their first year traveling together.

Something was very, very wrong. 

“Geralt,” he called softly. “Can you hear me?”

Geralt didn’t respond and Jaskier contemplated what to do. If Geralt was having some sort of fit, there was very little he could do. But if Geralt was struggling internally – well, Jaskier understood that. He could help with that, he thought.

“I’m going to touch you, Geralt. It’s okay if you don’t want me to, just draw back. But I think touch might make you feel better. If you’re stuck in your head, just being held can really help.” He narrated his moves as he reached out and wrapped his arm around Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt didn’t flinch away – didn’t react at all – Jaskier bit his lip and wrapped himself around Geralt, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. 

He didn’t know what else to do, what else he  _ could  _ do. So Jaskier just kept talking, holding Geralt close and chattering about anything that came to mind. And gradually, Geralt relaxed back into him, and it was less like hugging a brick wall. As Geralt loosened, it became more and more like cuddling a friend or a lover, and Jaskier squeezed him tightly. 

He really should have seen this coming.

Well, not this exactly. He had never seen anything like this from Geralt, and certainly had never expected it. But he should have realized that if he was struggling with his feelings, Geralt probably was too. And Geralt had never learned healthy coping mechanisms. Jaskier had controlled Geralt through two pretty intense scenes without any sort of aftercare at all, and his cuddling with Geralt this morning didn’t make up for that. It was no wonder Geralt might be out of it if he was crashing from his submission high.

Jaskier cursed himself and nuzzled his nose against the back of Geralt’s neck. “I’m sorry, darling. I should have taken better care of you.” He pressed a kiss to the skin under his mouth and started humming a low tune in Geralt’s ear, hoping he would find the sound soothing.

They stayed like that for long time, sitting on the kitchen floor with Jaskier wrapped around Geralt. Jaskier’s backside was starting to go numb by the time Geralt finally moved, raising his head.

“Jask’,” he slurred. “Wha–”

“Hey,” Jaskier breathed and the sudden wave of relief made him feel like crying. “Welcome back. I’m not wholly sure what happened, but I think you might’ve had some sort of panic attack.” Geralt stiffened against him, affronted at the idea that Witchers could have panic attacks. “Or maybe something else. But you were totally unresponsive Geralt.” He ducked his head, hugging Geralt tight. “You scared me.”

“‘m sorry.” Geralt murmured.

“No no,” Jaskier soothed. “I think I’m partially to blame, and anyway, you don’t need to apologize for it!” He cleared his throat. “We probably should move off of the floor, though. Can you stand?”

Geralt hesitated, but nodded slightly. He didn’t pull away from Jaskier, though. “Don’t let go,” he whispered, and Jaskier felt like the air had been punched out of him.

Jaskier rubbed his hands up and down Geralt’s arms again. “I won’t. But I would really prefer not to be sitting on the hard floor.” He pressed his forehead to the crown of Geralt’s head. “Given the choice, I’d rather not let go of you ever again.” Geralt made a small sound and Jaskier swallowed. “Come on. I’m gonna stay right here next to you, and we’ll stand up together, okay?”

Geralt’s hum was more breath than voice, but Jaskier could recognize the agreement. They pulled themselves upright together, almost overbalancing and falling back down before Geralt caught them. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Jaskier said, and they trooped awkwardly upstairs, Jaskier wrapped around Geralt and their steps shuffling forward. Without a Witcher’s strength to catch them, they probably would have fallen down the stairs several times over, but eventually, they made it to Jaskier’s bed. The two of them flopped down in an uncoordinated heap, and then wiggled to get under the covers, but finally, Jaskier had Geralt wrapped up in his arms in a cocoon of soft blankets.

“I should have taken better care of you earlier,” Jaskier murmured, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s neck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed someone.” Geralt shook his head minutely and Jaskier sighed. “I know, you don’t need anyone. But sometimes someone else helps, yeah?”

Geralt shook his head again. “I meant,” he rasped. “Not someone. You.” His shoulders tensed and he whispered, “I always need you.”

Jaskier found himself suddenly blinking back tears at the upswell of emotions at caused. He pulled Geralt closer against him. “I want to be there for you,” Jaskier said. “I want us to try.” He swallowed and shook himself. “Right now, what matters is that we both want to be here.” He tightened his arms around Geralt and nuzzled into the hair behind Geralt’s ear. “You should rest. I’ll be right here the whole time, I promise.”

Geralt slowly relaxed back into him. “I didn’t finish the laundry,” he murmured as he fell asleep and Jaskier was left staring at him in befuddlement. Why had Geralt even been doing the laundry in the first place? Had he been that bored, stuck in Jaskier’s house?

Reminding himself to ask Geralt about it later, Jaskier pulled Geralt the tiniest bit closer and gradually fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think just 1 more chapter? Probably?


End file.
